Chapter One

“Damn it, Bren—wake up!”

“Hmmph?” Someone with a death wish was shaking me. You don’t disturb a werewolf’s sleep; that’s just common f**king sense. The breeze shot through the cracked opened window, bringing a strong whiff of Tahoe’s magic. I grinned and inhaled. That shit was better than witch ganja, and it lulled me back to sleep.

But then Dan flipped on the leg lamp on my nightstand and opened his yap again. “Wake up, I mean it.”

“Grrrrr.”

“You can take that werewolf shit and shove it up your ass.”

That made me chuckle into my pillow. Dan swearing was damn funnier than Elmo dropping the “F” bomb. He shook me again, this time harder. I flipped over and tried to get comfortable.

“For crying out loud, put some pants on! I don’t need to see your . . . stuff.”

“It’s my goddamn room. I can sleep naked if I want. And what the hell do you mean by ‘stuff’? What are you, ten?”

Dan ignored me. “Bren, your stupid one-night stand stole all our food, our DVDs, and our laundry detergent.”

I half-opened one eye. “Wendy wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“Her name was Natasha.”

“You sure?”

“That’s the name she wrote all over my bathroom with her lipstick.”

I sat abruptly, suddenly panicked. “She didn’t take my  p**n , did she?”

Dan’s jaw slacked. “Is that all you care about, that she took your  p**n ?”

“No. For shit’s sake I’m hungrier than hell. How are you going to fix me breakfast without any food?”

Dan threw his hands in the air, in that same exaggerated way he always did when I pushed him to his breaking point. He kicked my dirty clothes on the floor and paced like an expectant dad. “You have the audacity to think I’d actually cook you breakfast—after what your one-nighter did?”

I scratched my beard. Damn, I needed a trim. “Well, yeah. It’s your job around here, you’re the woman. You’re supposed to cook, clean, and pay most of the bills. My job is to keep your ass safe from humans, vamps, weres, witches, little old ladies, and pretty much anything else you’re afraid of. It’s part of our deal, along with me getting you laid.”

Dan stomped to the side of my bed, stumbling over a pair of my old jeans. “First of all, it was just that one little old lady. I may be human, but I’m pretty sure she was some kind of spirit—especially given the amount of supernatural activity around here lately. Secondly, I don’t need help getting laid.”

I stared at my beanpole roommate. His messy curly hair hung over his thick black-framed glasses, and he tripped over air on a regular basis. Jesus. There were Girl Scouts more muscular and agile than him. “Yes, you do, Dan.”

“I’ve gotten laid a lot lately, all without your help.”

“Ugly girls don’t count, man.”

“Celia’s not ugly.”

I laughed and yanked at my overgrown hair. Damn, I needed a cut, too. But unlike Dan, I

did grunge well. “Celia was more than eight years ago.” I chuckled again. Talk about a mercy lay.

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“I still can’t believe you were her first. How’d you talk her into it? Did you promise to tutor her in chemistry or something?”

Dan’s entire face reddened, making him look more like a tomato than a walking piece of broccoli. “Whatever, Bren. I’ll prove to you I can get laid.”

“Sure, sure, you can get laid. Don’t get your thong in a bunch.”

Dan stamped his foot. Shit, I only thought girls did that.

“I mean it, Bren. I have to work late at the lab tonight, but I’ll meet you at eleven at the Watering Hole. I’m going to get a girl so hot your head will spin.”

I yawned. “Sure you will, buddy.”

“Fine. If you don’t believe me, how about we bet on it?”

“Dan, you don’t want to bet me on something like that. You’ll only lose and embarrass yourself.”

“You’re just afraid. I thought you were a wolf, not a chicken.”

My brows furrowed and I snarled. “Did you just call me a chicken?” This time it was Dan’s turn to laugh. I could be pretty damn intimidating, but he knew I’d never hurt him. He was a mothering pain in the ass, but also the best friend I’d ever had.

“You heard me, clucky.”

A slow grin eased across my face. “All right then, name the terms.”

“The loser has to clean and cook for the rest of the year . . .”

“Is that the best you can come up with? Oooh, I’m real scared now.”

“. . . wearing a French maid outfit, regardless of who’s in the apartment.”

My grin widened. The little turd had some balls after all. “You’re on.” I held out my hand. He refused to shake it until after I showered.

I glanced at my dogs-playing-pool clock. “Oh shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was supposed to meet Aric and his Warriors an hour ago at the Den.” I shrugged. “Oh well. They should know better than to expect me to be on time.”

Dan shook his head in a way that told me a lecture was coming. “Bren, what’s wrong with you? You should feel honored that Aric invited you to join his pack. He’s a renowned and respected pureblood.”

I kicked off the sheets wrapped around my ankles and stood, feeling my temper rise. “He only asked me to keep tabs on Celia.”

Dan followed me to my closet where I yanked out my last pair of clean jeans and a flannel shirt. “He asked you because you earned his respect when you helped save her and her sisters. Bren, we would have lost Shayna if you hadn’t tracked her.”

I threw the clothes over my shoulder. “Whatever, he’s an ass**le for dumping Celia.”

Dan leaned against my dresser while I reached in to grab socks and a pair of boxers. He seemed bummed all of a sudden. But hell, watching our girl Celia get chewed up and spit out had been a nut-punch none of us needed. For all her strength and good looks she’d never had any confidence when it came to males. And thanks to that idiot pureblood, she never would again.

Dan pushed his thick glasses back in place when they slid down his long schnoz. “Bren, Aric didn’t have a choice. He has to marry another pureblood were. Even Celia has come to terms with that.”